Flight

Sabine was tired of waiting

Waiting for what? Who knew?

The rosy finch, solo now, its mate having died

Was flying around noisily inside its cage

As if mirroring her mood

The isolation she once coveted had become tedious

Boring

She wanted out, out of her skin

She needed to feel free

Walk she said, I shall go for a walk along the water’s edge

Throwing on her coat, she headed out the door, down the gravel path

Lined with boxwood and lavender

Out to the road at a pretty fast clip

Sabine was all abuzz inside, lit up

Kinetic energy burning

No reason, just Sabine

In the distance she saw a figure slowly walking

Bending over, reaching down

As she neared, she saw it was a young man

Shock of blond hair, like rough cut golden straw

Covering one eye and stopping at the tip of his rather pointed, beak like nose

The eye she could see, was so dark brown it looked like a pool of oil

She could not tell where the iris met the pupil

He smiled showing the gap between his front teeth

He had on a ragged coat of tails and over his shoulder was a large bike bag

The bag was full of bird feathers

No particular type of bird, just random

She noticed he’d been picking up twigs

He had quite a few nestled in the crook of his arm

He held the one he’d just picked up out to her

Sabine started to shake her head as if to say no

But instead she took the twig, more like a stick really

And began to walk with him, bending down to pick up twigs

After a while they reached the path to the river

No words were spoken but Sabine laid her pile of twigs down and turned off to the water

She stopped for a moment and looked back

The young man, arms now quite twig-laden, headed down the road

As he moved off into the distance, every now and then a feather was freed from his bag

Lifted gently upward by the breeze, escaping confinement

After a time at the river, Sabine felt calm

The sun on her face was restoring her peace

The blood in her veins was moving along in unison with the gentle river

The sound of her feet on the mossy banks was soft and pleasing

The water mimicking the patterns of her now lazy thoughts

The trees dappling the light from time to time when the wind

Teased through them like a lover

She sat down, leaning back against a stump

Closing her eyes, drifting to sound of the river

With a symphony of insects and birds in the background

Sabine felt the tension lift, she floated freely

Like the clouds above her moving languidly across the late summer sky

Too soon she was startled by a loud pounding sound

Like someone running, running fast to board a train

Thudding across the landscape and then a flash of something sailed past

Upward towards the sun

Higher and higher

Sabine could not discern what it was

She would have had no clue

Save for the few twigs and feathers that fell to the ground as it soared over her

Returning to her little house

Sabine walked across the threshold

Her eyes rested upon the bird cage

The finch was quiet now

Huddled at one end of the perch

Staring blankly at nothing, mute

It was midday

Sabine gently carried the cage outside,

Setting it on the ground, she opened the door

What better time for a flight of freedom?